It had been a while since Jennifer had been to the Kingman Museum of Art and History. But, she heard they had some new things on display since the last time she visited. She had the time, some extra money, and the desire to. Also, she felt like going out on a Saturday afternoon, and the museum seemed like a nice choice. It wasn't the most expansive museum out there, but it was a good one. A while back, some of the Seniors' art projects were on display here, including some of hers. It was a nice experience, to see some of her photography as part of an exhibition. Overall, Jennifer liked being able to visit the museum. It was only today that she was able to see what new things were available.
She'd brought a sketchpad. That way, if she needed to sketch something, she could do so. No camera, though. The museum didn't allow it. Too many people used flash on objects that could be hundreds of years old. Plus, it brought up odd legal issues.
The lobby hadn't changed much from the last time she'd been here. The floor was still a shiny brown, and the stairs were still parallel to the entrance. There were some of the same steel sculptures decorating it. One of them was of a coyote, its teeth bared. She leaned forward to get a closer look. Jennifer couldn't help but admire how lifelike it was, even now.
Despite it being the weekend, it wasn't that crowded. She guessed that people didn't want to spend the afternoon at this particular museum. Maybe they wanted to do other things. Who knew? It was quiet, though, which was nice.
Jennifer sat down on one of the benches placed nearby, and pulled out her sketchbook from her black tote. She usually preferred painting or photography. However, sketching was nice as a first draft. It helped you get an idea of how things worked. Plus, the museum encouraged it, just with a few rules. She'd never sketched the coyote, though. Maybe it'd be good practice, or an inspiration for her.
Jennifer lifted her thumb to use as a measure. She could try this.
It Belongs in a Museum
Open
((Bart Cappotelli continued from 4649お願いします!))
For some reason, Bart didn't really know what to do on this particular afternoon. He didn't really feel like watching any of his cartoons, and he didn't feel up to listening to any of his music either, not even Big Pun. He had been doing the same things pretty much every day for weeks, and he felt like he needed a change, even if it was just for one day. He wanted to do something that he didn't normally do.
That was how he got the idea to go to the Kingman Museum of Art and History. It had been around six months since his last visit, so it was far enough outside of his usual routine to be of interest. Plus, he wanted to know how much, if at all, the museum had changed in the past half-year. He made sure to bring a sketchbook and paper, just in case he saw something cool that he wanted to draw.
Bart walked around the lobby, looking at the sculptures on display. He found most of them to be pretty interesting, but his favorite was the coyote. It looked so fierce, yet so noble. If there was only one sculpture in his lobby that he could truly appreciate, this was it.
The sculpture gave Bat an idea. Since he had his sketchbook, he could draw it, or at least something inspired by it. He had been having trouble coming up with ideas lately, so maybe this was the sort of opportunity he needed in order to get his train of thought back on track.
Bart walked over to a nearby bench, muttering a brief "Excuse me..." to the girl sitting on the other side before sitting down. He turned his sketchbook to an open page and tapped his pencil on the paper while looking at the steel coyote. He had a subject, now he just needed an idea to come to him.
For some reason, Bart didn't really know what to do on this particular afternoon. He didn't really feel like watching any of his cartoons, and he didn't feel up to listening to any of his music either, not even Big Pun. He had been doing the same things pretty much every day for weeks, and he felt like he needed a change, even if it was just for one day. He wanted to do something that he didn't normally do.
That was how he got the idea to go to the Kingman Museum of Art and History. It had been around six months since his last visit, so it was far enough outside of his usual routine to be of interest. Plus, he wanted to know how much, if at all, the museum had changed in the past half-year. He made sure to bring a sketchbook and paper, just in case he saw something cool that he wanted to draw.
Bart walked around the lobby, looking at the sculptures on display. He found most of them to be pretty interesting, but his favorite was the coyote. It looked so fierce, yet so noble. If there was only one sculpture in his lobby that he could truly appreciate, this was it.
The sculpture gave Bat an idea. Since he had his sketchbook, he could draw it, or at least something inspired by it. He had been having trouble coming up with ideas lately, so maybe this was the sort of opportunity he needed in order to get his train of thought back on track.
Bart walked over to a nearby bench, muttering a brief "Excuse me..." to the girl sitting on the other side before sitting down. He turned his sketchbook to an open page and tapped his pencil on the paper while looking at the steel coyote. He had a subject, now he just needed an idea to come to him.
Jennifer had begun roughly drawing the coyote's pose. Nothing fancy, just a rough outline of what went where. The feet were placed on the ground, reaffirming that the coyote was in an aggressive stance. Its mouth was wide open, with its tongue and teeth on display. This was one fierce coyote. There was something majestic about it.
Her nose wrinkled a bit as an odd, fishy smell filled the air. She looked up, to see one of her classmates sitting down on the other side. She knew who he was. That was Bart Cappotelli, a boy from the Writing Club. He always had this bizarre odor that wafted through the air like a poisonous gas. She had no idea why. Maybe he didn't shower that often. Maybe he needed to change his diet. Whatever it was, it was unusual. She wouldn't bring it up in conversation, but only out of politeness. Other than that, he was a quiet type. Didn't he like animation? That was one detail she could remember.
"Hello Bart," she said, her eyes on his sketch book. "Same idea?"
Her nose wrinkled a bit as an odd, fishy smell filled the air. She looked up, to see one of her classmates sitting down on the other side. She knew who he was. That was Bart Cappotelli, a boy from the Writing Club. He always had this bizarre odor that wafted through the air like a poisonous gas. She had no idea why. Maybe he didn't shower that often. Maybe he needed to change his diet. Whatever it was, it was unusual. She wouldn't bring it up in conversation, but only out of politeness. Other than that, he was a quiet type. Didn't he like animation? That was one detail she could remember.
"Hello Bart," she said, her eyes on his sketch book. "Same idea?"
Bart looked up from his paper to respond to Jennifer. "Oh, uh... yeah. I've kinda been having some trouble finding inspiration to draw lately, so I thought that coming here might help." He looked back at the statue through the corner of his eye, then took a quick glance down at his still empty paper. "Um... I think it might be working."
Bart had never been very good when it came to conversation, and he would be the first to admit that. However, Jennifer was in the writing club with him, so he would have thought that he would have an easier time talking to her. Unfortunately, that wasn't really having too much of a positive effect, since he still felt nervous trying to strike up a conversation. But since he had managed to actually get some words out, he figured that he might as well give it a shot.
"So... are you drawing the coyote too?"
Bart had never been very good when it came to conversation, and he would be the first to admit that. However, Jennifer was in the writing club with him, so he would have thought that he would have an easier time talking to her. Unfortunately, that wasn't really having too much of a positive effect, since he still felt nervous trying to strike up a conversation. But since he had managed to actually get some words out, he figured that he might as well give it a shot.
"So... are you drawing the coyote too?"
Jennifer still couldn't get over the smell. Why couldn't he shower, especially since he was going out to a public space? But she still shouldn't bring it up. She didn't know the story behind that. It was the sort of thing she was sure Bart wouldn't like her asking, either. As much as it was odd that a fishy odor seemed to float around him, it was rude to ask him why he smelled so weird.
"Yes, I am too," she said, looking back at the coyote.
She just remembered that he was a bit of an animator type, too. Cartooning? Yes, that was it. He was a bit nervous, but Jennifer could recall a detail like that. It would be interesting, seeing his interpretation of the coyote. There was only one cartoon coyote she could think of at the top of her head, after all. It was probably just a sketch, but still.
She fidgeted a bit, her nose still wrinkling a bit.
"Is the thing you're having trouble with your... ah, animation?", she asked.
Not eloquent, she had to admit.
"Yes, I am too," she said, looking back at the coyote.
She just remembered that he was a bit of an animator type, too. Cartooning? Yes, that was it. He was a bit nervous, but Jennifer could recall a detail like that. It would be interesting, seeing his interpretation of the coyote. There was only one cartoon coyote she could think of at the top of her head, after all. It was probably just a sketch, but still.
She fidgeted a bit, her nose still wrinkling a bit.
"Is the thing you're having trouble with your... ah, animation?", she asked.
Not eloquent, she had to admit.
Bart was a little surprised at first when Jennifer started asking about his animations. He didn't know that she was aware of that. However, he quickly realized that the reason she probably knew was because he had talked about his animations in the writing club before. He didn't think that anyone had actually remembered that, let alone care to bring it up in conversation. "Um... yeah. I'm worried that I might be running out of ideas, so I'm trying to come up with new ones."
While Bart was talking, he couldn't help but notice Jennifer's nose wrinkling with disgust. He didn't bother to hypothesize about the source, because he was quite positive that he knew the reason. The smell that followed him around was always the first thing that people noticed, provided they didn't draw attention to his weight first. Even when they weren't making jokes about it, he still noticed noticed that those traits were always the ones that caught people's attention. He let out a sigh before drawing attention to the elephant in the room.
"It's the smell, isn't it?"
While Bart was talking, he couldn't help but notice Jennifer's nose wrinkling with disgust. He didn't bother to hypothesize about the source, because he was quite positive that he knew the reason. The smell that followed him around was always the first thing that people noticed, provided they didn't draw attention to his weight first. Even when they weren't making jokes about it, he still noticed noticed that those traits were always the ones that caught people's attention. He let out a sigh before drawing attention to the elephant in the room.
"It's the smell, isn't it?"
Asuka hated sweat. Fuck you, human body, for not developing a cleaner, less sticky cooling mechanism. Or fuck you, human mind, for finding stickiness and dirt uncomfortable.
Asuka groaned and snapped her sketchbook closed. So much for that idea. Her sweat-soaked shirt was practically melting onto her body, and she'd only been drawing out here for, what, ten minutes? Fuck that shit.
Asuka was all for romance, all for sitting outside all serene and zen with her pencil scratching out line art of whatever inspirational thing happened to be sitting in front of her, looking all enlightened and in one with her surroundings and all. Yeah, that would've been nice. But if Kingman insisted on being the place where romance goes to die, well, she could roll with that.
Yeah. That was just fine. Being the place where romance goes to die was, in its own way, kinda romantic. You could stick the phrase on a sign, hoist it into the air, and people would pour in to marvel at the place. Kingman was an ideal, of sorts. She just needed to fuck up her perspective a little. It's all a matter of perspective, romance is a social construct, everything is a social construct, hell could be heaven and heaven could be hell, so on and so forth, right? And lo and behold, everything's fine again. Everything's golden.
Like that one time Asuka had gone to a party-- booze, drugs, loud music, screaming, the works. Normally she hated parties, but she'd wanted to go that time-- remember? Yeah, remember that? She'd actually wanted to go that time, she'd wanted to feel overwhelmed and overimulated, alienated and melancholic, and, holy shit, it had worked. It was beautiful. It'd been heaven.
Not that Asuka had tried any of the booze or drugs. She hadn't quite reached that point yet.
So drawing out here was out of the question, but having a nice draw session wasn't. Sweat was disgusting-- objectively disgusting-- but Kingman was only subjectively unromantic.
Stand up, Asuka. Walk across the street. The museum let you sketch their stuff, right? That'll be nice. That'll be an alright consolation prize.
Bump the doors open. Oh, hell yes. A/C. All hail A/C. And fans. All hail fans. The door boomed behind her as she came in, her footsteps echoing up and down the building.
The museum was big and quiet and empty. Good. She wouldn't have to deal with feeling self-conscious while drawing, wouldn't have the words they're judging you, they're judging you echoing around inside her head and frying her brain.
Oh. So there are people here. That's fine, they're keeping to their own thing. Drawing, like she was. And one of them, now that she was looking a little more closely, was Jennifer Wallace. That was good. Of course the other guy smelled like fish-- didn't seem likely to be Jennifer, with that wrinkled nose-- but hey, don't judge a book by its cover, right? Asuka wouldn't. Asuka was a nice non-judgmental person who would never avoid a person just because they smelled like fish, right? No, she was going to go off to draw by herself regardless of who was there, because she was a shy quiet person who wanted to be alone with her thoughts and sketchpad. The fish smell was entirely incidental.
Asuka waved. Goddammit.
She'd meant that wave. She'd really really wanted to just be alone, but still, she'd meant that wave.
Hi and stuff.
Asuka groaned and snapped her sketchbook closed. So much for that idea. Her sweat-soaked shirt was practically melting onto her body, and she'd only been drawing out here for, what, ten minutes? Fuck that shit.
Asuka was all for romance, all for sitting outside all serene and zen with her pencil scratching out line art of whatever inspirational thing happened to be sitting in front of her, looking all enlightened and in one with her surroundings and all. Yeah, that would've been nice. But if Kingman insisted on being the place where romance goes to die, well, she could roll with that.
Yeah. That was just fine. Being the place where romance goes to die was, in its own way, kinda romantic. You could stick the phrase on a sign, hoist it into the air, and people would pour in to marvel at the place. Kingman was an ideal, of sorts. She just needed to fuck up her perspective a little. It's all a matter of perspective, romance is a social construct, everything is a social construct, hell could be heaven and heaven could be hell, so on and so forth, right? And lo and behold, everything's fine again. Everything's golden.
Like that one time Asuka had gone to a party-- booze, drugs, loud music, screaming, the works. Normally she hated parties, but she'd wanted to go that time-- remember? Yeah, remember that? She'd actually wanted to go that time, she'd wanted to feel overwhelmed and overimulated, alienated and melancholic, and, holy shit, it had worked. It was beautiful. It'd been heaven.
Not that Asuka had tried any of the booze or drugs. She hadn't quite reached that point yet.
So drawing out here was out of the question, but having a nice draw session wasn't. Sweat was disgusting-- objectively disgusting-- but Kingman was only subjectively unromantic.
Stand up, Asuka. Walk across the street. The museum let you sketch their stuff, right? That'll be nice. That'll be an alright consolation prize.
Bump the doors open. Oh, hell yes. A/C. All hail A/C. And fans. All hail fans. The door boomed behind her as she came in, her footsteps echoing up and down the building.
The museum was big and quiet and empty. Good. She wouldn't have to deal with feeling self-conscious while drawing, wouldn't have the words they're judging you, they're judging you echoing around inside her head and frying her brain.
Oh. So there are people here. That's fine, they're keeping to their own thing. Drawing, like she was. And one of them, now that she was looking a little more closely, was Jennifer Wallace. That was good. Of course the other guy smelled like fish-- didn't seem likely to be Jennifer, with that wrinkled nose-- but hey, don't judge a book by its cover, right? Asuka wouldn't. Asuka was a nice non-judgmental person who would never avoid a person just because they smelled like fish, right? No, she was going to go off to draw by herself regardless of who was there, because she was a shy quiet person who wanted to be alone with her thoughts and sketchpad. The fish smell was entirely incidental.
Asuka waved. Goddammit.
She'd meant that wave. She'd really really wanted to just be alone, but still, she'd meant that wave.
Hi and stuff.
"Ah," Jennifer said. "I know the feeling."
Writer's block: the bane of anyone with an artistic bent. She knew it well. The feeling of staring at a computer screen, notepad, or piece of paper, trying to think of just that right detail. Didn't matter what exactly you were doing, but it still crept up like some wild tiger.
Jennifer smiled for a brief second. That feeling was one of solidarity. Something she could empathize with, even with the smell. Speaking of which, he just noticed her reaction.
"Uh..."
She didn't come off as impolite, did she? Jennifer was a blunt person, but the smells of people was right up there with talking to someone about their body weight. It could be well-meaning, but it wasn't nice to go around telling people they're fat or that they smell bad. Sure, she still wondered why he didn't take care of the smell, but again, that's something she felt was inappropriate to bring up.
But Bart noticed her reaction, so it was a good idea to tackle that elephant in the living room. Well, museum lobby, but still.
"I guess it is," she said. "I've been wondering about it for a while, but... I thought it was impolite to ask. Sorry if I came off as rude."
Well, this was awkward. Maybe she should have brought it up sooner in Writing Club or elsewhere. It would have at least given her an explanation sooner, to prevent mishaps like this. Jennifer found herself looking away, only to see another classmate. It was Asuka, standing and waving some feet away
Jennifer waved back. She must be here for the same reasons, then? It was hot outside, too. Living on the edge of the Mohave desert meant a lot of air condition. Maybe that was it, for Bart. Just someone who sweats a lot.
Writer's block: the bane of anyone with an artistic bent. She knew it well. The feeling of staring at a computer screen, notepad, or piece of paper, trying to think of just that right detail. Didn't matter what exactly you were doing, but it still crept up like some wild tiger.
Jennifer smiled for a brief second. That feeling was one of solidarity. Something she could empathize with, even with the smell. Speaking of which, he just noticed her reaction.
"Uh..."
She didn't come off as impolite, did she? Jennifer was a blunt person, but the smells of people was right up there with talking to someone about their body weight. It could be well-meaning, but it wasn't nice to go around telling people they're fat or that they smell bad. Sure, she still wondered why he didn't take care of the smell, but again, that's something she felt was inappropriate to bring up.
But Bart noticed her reaction, so it was a good idea to tackle that elephant in the living room. Well, museum lobby, but still.
"I guess it is," she said. "I've been wondering about it for a while, but... I thought it was impolite to ask. Sorry if I came off as rude."
Well, this was awkward. Maybe she should have brought it up sooner in Writing Club or elsewhere. It would have at least given her an explanation sooner, to prevent mishaps like this. Jennifer found herself looking away, only to see another classmate. It was Asuka, standing and waving some feet away
Jennifer waved back. She must be here for the same reasons, then? It was hot outside, too. Living on the edge of the Mohave desert meant a lot of air condition. Maybe that was it, for Bart. Just someone who sweats a lot.
He knew it. Jennifer had noticed his smell. Bart wasn't really offended. After all, he had figured that it was his most notable characteristic. However, that didn't mean that he particularly liked to be reminded of it, intentionally or otherwise. At least she wasn't trying to be rude about it, though. That was a luxury that a lot of people hadn't bothered with in the past.
"It's a medical condition." He said with a noticable undertone of disappointment in his voice. "It's been following me for years, and it doesn't look like it's going to go away anytime soon." He closed his eyes and took a breath. "It's not like I haven't tried to do anything about it, but it always comes right back."
Well, he had just spilled the beans about something that he rarely, if ever talked about with anyone outside of his parents. Either he had just opened up a new can of worms, or he had totally killed the current conversation. Either way, he couldn't deny that it actually felt kind of nice to really admit the source of his perpetual odor to someone.
It didn't really comfort him much, but it was something.
"It's a medical condition." He said with a noticable undertone of disappointment in his voice. "It's been following me for years, and it doesn't look like it's going to go away anytime soon." He closed his eyes and took a breath. "It's not like I haven't tried to do anything about it, but it always comes right back."
Well, he had just spilled the beans about something that he rarely, if ever talked about with anyone outside of his parents. Either he had just opened up a new can of worms, or he had totally killed the current conversation. Either way, he couldn't deny that it actually felt kind of nice to really admit the source of his perpetual odor to someone.
It didn't really comfort him much, but it was something.
Jennifer met her gaze, acknowledged her, turned back to talking with the other guy. Good. That was as it should be, that was as Asuka had envisioned it.
And then the other guy started talking and all of Asuka's plans for the afternoon went to hell, because people are opening up people are being vulnerable and hell yeah let's get Asuka out of her head for a little bit. She'd been spending the whole day there.
So. Um. Physical problems weren't exactly Asuka's forte, and, truth be told, she had a lot more empathy for people with mental disorders. Like, she felt sorry for them and all, but you could deal with a broken leg or arm or hell, even something more permanent like diabetes way more easily than with something like social anxiety or depression. God, Asuka hoped she wasn't being ableist or trivializing disability or something. She really hoped she wasn't.
But it's not like she could be blamed for that, could she? Like, she'd dealt with mental stuff before, so no shit she was able to relate to mental illness better. Plus, she'd done way more research on mental illness and stuff, so there's that.
Don't make excuses for yourself, Asuka. Hold your goddamn cowardly self accountable.
Okay. So this guy's physical condition had mostly social implications. That was something Asuka could talk about. Thing was, she wasn't really sure how to go about this. Was he telling her in confidence? Doubtful. Still, it'd suck if she fucked up this little interaction and made the guy uncomfortable. She wasn't going to be that one kid who always ruined a good moment. But still, she couldn't sit this one out.
No advice. Asuka hated it when people tried to give her advice for her shit. It was always really obvious and irrelevant and seriously, did these assholes think she was an idiot? Of course she'd tried that already. You would've if you've been there. You weren't there, man. You just weren't there.
Fuck, she was overthinking this. Except she wasn't, was the thing. Nothing she'd thought of so far was a valid way to enter the discussion. So just quietly take a seat nearby, nod and listen and look friendly, and maybe she could join later in a way that doesn't fuck this up.
"Ah, that sucks. That really sucks, man."
Well that sounded stupid and forced and insincere. But she had to say something. She already knew how this was going to go, how this was going to end, if she didn't say something.
And then the other guy started talking and all of Asuka's plans for the afternoon went to hell, because people are opening up people are being vulnerable and hell yeah let's get Asuka out of her head for a little bit. She'd been spending the whole day there.
So. Um. Physical problems weren't exactly Asuka's forte, and, truth be told, she had a lot more empathy for people with mental disorders. Like, she felt sorry for them and all, but you could deal with a broken leg or arm or hell, even something more permanent like diabetes way more easily than with something like social anxiety or depression. God, Asuka hoped she wasn't being ableist or trivializing disability or something. She really hoped she wasn't.
But it's not like she could be blamed for that, could she? Like, she'd dealt with mental stuff before, so no shit she was able to relate to mental illness better. Plus, she'd done way more research on mental illness and stuff, so there's that.
Don't make excuses for yourself, Asuka. Hold your goddamn cowardly self accountable.
Okay. So this guy's physical condition had mostly social implications. That was something Asuka could talk about. Thing was, she wasn't really sure how to go about this. Was he telling her in confidence? Doubtful. Still, it'd suck if she fucked up this little interaction and made the guy uncomfortable. She wasn't going to be that one kid who always ruined a good moment. But still, she couldn't sit this one out.
No advice. Asuka hated it when people tried to give her advice for her shit. It was always really obvious and irrelevant and seriously, did these assholes think she was an idiot? Of course she'd tried that already. You would've if you've been there. You weren't there, man. You just weren't there.
Fuck, she was overthinking this. Except she wasn't, was the thing. Nothing she'd thought of so far was a valid way to enter the discussion. So just quietly take a seat nearby, nod and listen and look friendly, and maybe she could join later in a way that doesn't fuck this up.
"Ah, that sucks. That really sucks, man."
Well that sounded stupid and forced and insincere. But she had to say something. She already knew how this was going to go, how this was going to end, if she didn't say something.
Oh. Well that's awkward. He couldn't do much to control it, could he? If it's a medical thing, then... maybe. But Jennifer didn't know the illness well enough to say how. She couldn't help but suddenly think of her own issues with caffeine. She'd been trying to quit it for a long time, only to find herself holding a mug a week later. Whenever she brought it up, everyone jumped in to give advice. It was sometimes asinine advice, too. Decaffeinated beverages were a good idea, but then some people pitched in with all kinds of fad diets that would supposedly help. No, she didn't want to try to latest detox diet trend. Did she look like she wanted to? No.
Anyways, it'd be somewhat like that, if she said anything that was supposed to be "advice". Bart didn't name the medical condition, anyways, so it's not like she was an expert. So advice was right out. Too insensitive. Jennifer, to be honest, didn't think of herself as being good at talking about personal matters. Small talk? Sure. Critiquing each other's' work? Of course. Personal things? Well, that's when she's at a loss. It wasn't like she was that terrible at social skills, just... she had no idea what to say to improve things. Bart had sounded disappointed, too. What can she say, then?
Asuka, however, had spoken up. It was that easy. Just say that it sucks. Maybe it was too simple, or maybe he didn't want to be pitied for it. But at least it was something.
"Same. I... had no idea about it until now", Jennifer said.
She wasn't sure if that's what he wanted to hear.
Anyways, it'd be somewhat like that, if she said anything that was supposed to be "advice". Bart didn't name the medical condition, anyways, so it's not like she was an expert. So advice was right out. Too insensitive. Jennifer, to be honest, didn't think of herself as being good at talking about personal matters. Small talk? Sure. Critiquing each other's' work? Of course. Personal things? Well, that's when she's at a loss. It wasn't like she was that terrible at social skills, just... she had no idea what to say to improve things. Bart had sounded disappointed, too. What can she say, then?
Asuka, however, had spoken up. It was that easy. Just say that it sucks. Maybe it was too simple, or maybe he didn't want to be pitied for it. But at least it was something.
"Same. I... had no idea about it until now", Jennifer said.
She wasn't sure if that's what he wanted to hear.